


2017

by pdorkaa



Series: readers [10]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Because of Reasons, Gen, Self-Indulgent, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-12-30 19:16:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12115419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pdorkaa/pseuds/pdorkaa
Summary: Ezio Auditore da Firenze is thurst into the future, and Desmond Miles is the source of all your woes. Microwaves and the Renaissance don't mix.Is not related to any of the other works in this series.





	2017

**Author's Note:**

> this is au in the sense that it takes place kind of outside canon. like, Lucy is dead, Desmond is decidedly not, but it's not set during revelations or aciii, and who needs canon anyways?  
> also, don't take this very seriously - i certainly didn't.

A knock on your door.

"Desmond?" you narrow your eyes at him through the gap. There is someone with him, smelling of metal and horses so strongly it fills the hallway.

"Hi" is all he says, but his grin is apologetic, and you know that does not bode well for your peace of mind. "Can we come in?"

You sigh and open the door fully. It's not likely whomever is with him will try to attack you, and in any case, you have your blades strapped to your wrist. You flex them, not enough to draw the blade, just to feel the braces against your arms. It's reassuring, no matter how much of a bad habit is walking around armed in your own flat. The beauties of Assassin life, you snort, and step out of the way to let them in.

"Desmond" you start, again, and you feel that your tone is a tad more menacing than it need be, but... "Desmond. Why does that look like Ezio Auditore?"

Desmond squirms under the weight of your eyes. The man in question, however, perks up, and says, " _Salute!_ "

And by God, his voice is like Ezio's too. He is grinning, doubling up on charm that seems inherent to him, but you can see something irrevocably close to terror in his eyes.

"Uh" Desmond says. No one has ever said they liked him for his vocabulary, and you patiently wait till his mind buffers. "That's probably because this is Ezio Auditore."

"Uh-huh" you nod, arching a brow at the both of them. Ezio Auditore is fingering the scar that runs over his lips, and the motion is eerily familiar - Desmond does the same when he's feeling out of his depth. "And why are you here again?" You ask, already dreading the answer.

"Well, he needs a place to stay" Desmond begins, but falls silent almost immediately when your eyes pierce his.

"And that place is my flat? Why can't the Italians take him? For fuck's sake, does he even speak English?" Judging by the indignation on Ezio Auditore's face, he does. 'Why me' doesn't leave your mouth, because you have some dignity left, but it's a close thing. "Well, come on, make yourselves comfortable, _sedetevi_ " you say, "we can't be standing in the doorway forever and I need another coffee for this.

"You speak Italian, too" Desmond points out, as if it wasn't already both obvious and common knowledge. He has the grin of someone who knows he's already won, and you want to kick him for knowing you so well. Maybe a throwing knife in the leg, or something, would be a nice addition.

Of course you won't kick him out. You're not really sure if you believe that that man is Actually The One And Only Ezio Auditore From 148-whatever, but you're willing to give the both of them the benefit of doubt.

In any case, Ezio Auditore grants you an appreciative glance, and another even more so when he spots your blades. Nothing says 'brotherhood' louder and clearer than twenty centimetres of sharp killing instruments strapped to your forearms.

You sigh as you whip out your phone. Ezio Auditore glances at the instrument mistrtustfully, but says nothing.

"Shaun" you start as you hear the line click. "Why is a five-hundred year old Assassin sitting on my couch?"

"I don't know, have you offered him a seat?" His accent cuts sharper on the phone, rising with an edge then falling softly. The sarcasm is underappreciated, though.

"Hastings. Is he really--"

"Yes, yes, that's Ezio Auditore da Firenze in all his glory. Now, if you don't mind, some of us have actual work to return to..."

"I was scheduled to go on a mission in two days!" You can't help but snap. "Why can't one of the Italians take him? How is he even here?"

You can hear a very frustrated sigh on the other end of the line. "It's Abstergo's new experiment. Rebecca managed to hijack one of their systems, so we've got the Auditore prodigy now. As for the Italians..." A pause. A very alarming pause. "The entire HQ was wiped out."

Your legs give way and you sag down into an armchair.

"I... See. Thanks, Shaun." The line clicks off.

Gazing at Desmond through the slits between your fingers, you fight your tears.

"What happened, _fratelli?_ " Ezio asks, glancing between the two of you. Oh, you really don't need emotional comfort from a supposedly-dead Assassin. They're already bad at it when they're alive, come on.

"We lost an entire branch of our Brotherhood in Rome" Desmond says, his voice like gravel in your ears. Ezio nods solemnly, and you marvel a bit at how little the Animus has shown of him. Desmond probably knows him as intimately as it could get, having lived inside him, but to you, Ezio Auditore was only pixels on a screen, up until this very morning. And from what you'd seen, he certainly hadn't looked like the mature type.

"Uh" Desmond speaks up again. Life rushes back in and flows on. "So are you okay here?" He asks, rather ungracefully and not at all tactful, and it's not entirely clear to which of you he is referring to. You nod.

Desmond hightails it from your apartment with speed you're sure is beyond human.

 

 

"Jesus Christ" you mutter as you sink into your - much needed - bath. Ezio Auditore is now sitting at your kitchen table (or, he was when you left for your bath), in a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants and a white tee you stole off of some ex of yours. You even dug up some socks for him. It was a glaringly anachronistic image, only further enhanced by the steaming mug of hot chocolate you left him with. Hey, what else were you supposed to give a traumatised time-travelling Assassin? Hot chocolate was naturally the best option.

You let out a happy little sigh as you sink further into the bubbly, hot water and close your eyes. Just ten more minutes of blissful relaxation...

A clatter, the sound of china breaking, and a distinct _merda_ float your way. There is also a sound like someone slammed the oven door, and multiple chairs screech across the floor.

Apparently, you've left a timer running on the microwave, which - naturally - startled your five-hundred years old guest.

The lesson you're going to take away from this, you think as you clean up the tiny pieces of chocolatey ceramic, is that you're going to need to strangle Desmond if he brings another horror such as this into your otherwise perfectly normal life. As normal as it gets for an Assassin, anyways. Okay, maybe your life is slightly rushed and not at all normal, but.

Strangling Desmond Miles definitely sounds like a promising prospect.


End file.
